Ever since what happened last time, Florence had been acting cautious around me. She probably figured out I wasn’t that easy to mess with. She didn’t stir up trouble anymore, just made a few weird little comments in that passive-aggressive way of hers.
My parents seemed to realize they’d gone too far too. They kept buying me gifts as some kind of apology, like that could fix everything.
Then, about a month later, her birthday party was coming up. Florence tiptoed into my room like she was walking on eggshells.
"I really am sorry about last time," she said softly, like she was rehearsing. "But it wasn’t my fault. Our parents just misunderstood. I’ve been trying to explain everything to them."
She didn’t even wait for me to reply before pulling out a shopping bag. "I got you a dress, just a gift. I hope you’ll wear it to my party. If you do, it’ll make Mom and Dad really happy."
I glanced at the dress. Expensive. Stylish. Exactly the kind of thing I liked. The right size, too. But I knew better. Florence didn’t do anything without a reason.
I grabbed the dress and tugged at it just a little and just like that, the seams split. The whole thing fell apart in my hands like it was made of tissue paper.
Yeah. Imagine showing up to the party in that. What a joke.
Florence’s expression changed fast. "That… wasn’t me. It must’ve been the store clerk or something…"
I tossed the ruined dress back at her and said flatly, "You really don’t get tired of this, do you? Still pulling the same stunts. What? Did you forget how last time ended? Didn’t you feel embarrassed enough?"
She glanced around my room, then gave me this smug little smirk. "You’re just an orphan my parents adopted. You really think you belong here? Now that I’m back, there’s no room left for you."
Honestly, I almost laughed. But before I could say anything, she leaned in close and whispered, "Yeah, I lost last time. But I learned something, our parents still love me more. Last time, you had the security cameras to back you up. But this time? No cameras. Let’s see what you’ve got now."
There was something off about the way she looked at me, like she was holding back something nasty. Before I could even react, she suddenly slapped herself, hard.
"You really think I'm soft? That I'm scared of you? That I gave you that dress out of kindness?" she snapped, her voice shaking. "No. I just wanted to kick you out of the Leclair Family before I even told anyone who I really am."
She kept going, voice rising. "I don't want you to just move out of the manor. I want you erased. I want you gone for good. Give back everything, my parents' love, their money, the clothes, the jewelry, even that perfect fiancé of yours. All of it. I want it all back."
She started hitting herself again, over and over. But her skin was thick and even though it had to hurt, it didn't look like much, just some redness.
I stared at her, unimpressed and pointed at the scissors nearby. "If you're gonna go this far, at least make it look real. No one is gonna buy it without a little blood."
She actually picked them up. Took a few deep breaths, then stabbed the scissors straight into her palm. She trembled from the pain, but apparently, that wasn’t dramatic enough either. She threw herself into the floor-length mirror.
Glass shattered everywhere. Her arms and legs were cut up, her face was red and swollen and she had ripped out chunks of her hair. It was chaos.
And then she made her final move, ran over, grabbed me and rubbed her bloody hands all over my clothes like she was claiming me as part of the scene.
"Mom! Dad! Help! Help me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
